


Through a Glass, Darkly

by that_runneth



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2011-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 11:40:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_runneth/pseuds/that_runneth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I craved for logic and perfection, at least I thought so, but all I managed to create was chaos and suffering. I had Tron, with all your logic and uprightness and I requited him for that loyalty with the greatest cruelty possible."</p><p>Illustration by Thane - varethane.deviantart.com</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through a Glass, Darkly

I.  
   
  It happened on Friday afternoon, a week after he had been reinstated as the chairman of the company. Alan knew that he would never forget that day: it was busy from early in the morning, with meeting after meeting, conference calls and interviews. The ENCOM stocks had plummeted from the day when the changes around the company had gone public. While the company had always been in the focus of the attention of the public and the profession, it was hardly a secret that Alan’s return meant that the price of the ENCOM products would drop. Despite of that everybody in the building was excited and expectant: by Friday Alan felt exhausted yet very much alert and energized.  
   
  He got the call after 2 PM in his office.  
   
  “Mr. Bradley,” his secretary’s voice came from the phone. “It’s Mr. Flynn on the line.”  
   
  Alan picked up the receiver promptly.  
   
  “Sam?” he asked.  
   
  “Hi, Alan,” said Sam, his voice was tired and content. “How are you?”  
   
  “Fine… I’ve been trying to get hold of you since days. We’re in the middle of… Sam, you can’t just disappear now!”  
   
  “I’ve been busy too. We’ve got to meet.”  
   
  “Now? I still have two meetings today and…”  
   
  “Yes, now. Can you come? It’s really important.”  
   
  “Where are you?” asked Alan.  
   
  “I’m at the Arcade.”  
   
  “I’ll be there soon,” said Alan. He told his secretary to cancel his meetings and went to the parking lot for his car. He did not even think about the invitation: Sam had appeared to be serious when he had called him to the Arcade for the first time and the day after, when he had signed the papers and had put Alan in charge formally, but the younger Flynn had been absent since then – and Alan had the impression that he should expect the same eccentric behavior from him, as a business partner that he had received from Kevin Flynn long time before.  
   
  The street around the Arcade was less deserted than it had been at night, yet the great days of the area had obviously been gone: there were cars parked next to the curb and a few stores were open on the other side of the street. The locket and the bars were gone from the main door of the Arcade, but no other improvements had been made. If Sam had worked around there during the previous days, he had done it inside; and Alan could not really make anything out of that. He opened the door and stepped inside.  
   
  It was dim inside and some dust floated in the air; no cleaning had been done around here. Then Alan saw Sam and his friend, the girl he had seen with the younger Flynn a few nights before here. The young woman wore the same black outfit and now seemed to be distracted: Alan assumed that she had cried before. Then he set his eyes on the two men behind and he stopped: it was Sam, leant against a gaming machine, with a similar, shocked but happy expression on his face and Kevin Flynn, standing next to his son – and Alan’s world that had been so complicated a few minutes before, got reduced to exclamations, embraces and broken words.  
    
II.  
   
  Sam and his friend went out and let the two of them talk privately. Alan was still shaken and had hard time finding the words: so he was just staring at his friend – but even what he saw raised new questions. Flynn wore jeans, jacket and boots; everything seemed to be brand new. The problem was not with his attire, but with his whole appearance. They were of the same age – _they were supposed to be of the same age_ – but there was a stunning difference between them. Flynn looked older than he had been at the time of his disappearance, older, but way younger than Alan, way younger than he should have been. And still, his youthful fever was gone; there was such deep understanding and consideration in his eyes - Alan had never expected to see anything like that on him.  
   
  “You are so… different,” said Alan. “You have to tell me everything.”  
   
  Flynn glanced at him with that strange, new look of him and nodded. He began to talk and he talked for long. Several times during his monologue Alan wanted to stop him, wanted to yell at him so he would not talk such rubbish, wanted to ask him not to go on; and then he just stayed silent and listened until Flynn finished. They were staring at each other.  
   
  “Are you insane?” asked Alan. There was a flinch on the other side and some cold flash in Flynn’s eyes. “Is this what you have told your son?”  
   
  “He’s been there,” replied Flynn, again with that odd sparkle. If there was anything unlikely about him, that was not his unnaturally youthful appearance, but that coldness in his eyes. “You don’t believe a word.”  
   
  “What? Twenty years in a computer? A whole civilization on a hard drive? Fighting against your own digital copy and being integrated with him at the end? Dying in the process and still being alive? This is mental. And utterly disrespectful. You probably don’t even get how much you hurt people with your inane behavior.”  
   
  Alan was fuming. He was outraged: twenty years, he thought, while he had secretly believed that his lost friend had been out to create something that would indeed change the world: he had believed in those heated words that he had heard from Flynn before his disappearance. And this is what he got now: some marvelous tale of an undiscovered universe.  
   
  “I wasn’t really dead,” said Flynn. “Well, the physical bodies perished in the explosion, but the code of the reintegrated entity remained on the computer. That was what Sam managed to retrieve.”  
   
  Alan was glaring at him. He was wondering why Sam took part in this nauseating set up and if the younger Flynn was laughing with his friend outside on the street now.  
   
  “Come,” said Flynn. Only then did Alan realize that one of the gaming machines had been removed from the wall; ‘TRON’. There was a door behind the machine and a steep staircase. Alan was uncertain: was it possible that there was some truth in Flynn’s startling story? Twenty years, he thought, Sam had been raised without parents, the company had been mismanaged – he and Flynn’s very few remaining friends had almost lost hope of seeing him alive again. He did not deserve this treatment.  
   
  An office was hidden in the basement. Everything – the electronic appliances, the shelves, the sofa and the floor – was dusty, yet it was obvious that there had been considerable coming and going in the room. The flat screen of a built-in monitor was blinking on the working desk. Alan walked there and looked at the lines of commands; then he turned and he saw the old laser from Lora’s laboratory. He had seen that laser in work: it had been functioning. He felt doubt, for the first time since he had arrived here.  
   
  “Alright,” he said. “Show it to me.”  
   
  “What?” asked Flynn. Again there was some sort of odd composure in his attitude and a possibility occurred to Alan; that he was not dealing with Kevin Flynn at all, that the man before him was not his old friend.  
   
  “Show me that world,” said Alan. “That Grid.”  
   
  “It’s not exactly the place right now to where I could send anybody,” replied Flynn. Alan gave him a mortifying glance.  
   
  “Why I am not surprised?” he asked. He turned and walked out of the office. Sam and his friend were standing right outside the entrance of the Arcade, they looked at Alan in surprise when he walked out with an angry face.  
   
  “Alan,” said Sam. He did not turn back, just walked to his car and left.  
   
III.  
   
    Alan drove home. He was mad and confused: by the time he parked his car he was not even sure anymore if he had not just dreamed the whole scene in the Arcade. He still could not understand the wicked joke and he needed some time to consider what to do. Alan entered the house, sat down on the sofa and rubbed his temples. Lora was not home yet: his wife had flown home immediately after the announcement of Alan’s reinstatement, but it was still early in the afternoon and he could not expect her back anytime soon. In the silent house he felt the exhaustion of the previous week overwhelming him and he leant his head against a pillow.  
   
  There was a blanket spread over him when he woke up. The light was on in the kitchen and Alan heard Lora as she was talking on the phone. Music came from the background. Alan closed his eyes and then reached for his phone in his pocket when he felt the buzz of the device. It was Sam.  
   
  “Hi, Alan,” the boy said. His voice was calm, serious.  
   
  “Sam… Is it true? What he said?” asked Alan without a lap of honor.  
   
  “Yes,” replied Sam. It was such a simple answer, yet it took Alan’s breath. “I need you in this. You won’t let us down, will you?”  
   
  “No… You should have told me.”  
   
  “It wasn’t easy. I needed some time to sort things out. We… I didn’t know that he survived. Just when I examined the system again, that was when I found it out. And even then it was hard, because I wasn’t sure if it was him or Clu. And then we had to take him out safely. It’s been quite a week.”  
   
  Alan was silent. He felt sorry and fondness: he had not known then, when he had gone to the Arcade for the first time to see Flynn that he would be going to be the part of a family that would give him more headache and love than his own.  
   
  “Is it him?” he asked. “The one, who came back? Are you sure, that it is him?”  
   
  There was a short silence.  
   
  “It’s dad,” said Sam slowly. “And not entirely. The way he looks… He looked different when I found him in the system, older, as he would have been, had he lived with us. The reintegration seems to have fused them, he and Clu together and he ended up somewhere between them.”  
   
  Alan stayed silent. The thoughts were chasing each other in his head. Sam must have sensed his doubts, because he continued.  
   
  “Alan, he is dad. He knows everything that happened to him before the ENCOM, during the twenty years out there and in that short period of time that we have spent together in the system.”  
   
  “He is so very different. Nothing of his old passionate self, that abruptness,” said Alan.  
   
  “He was like that when I found him.” Sam’s voice was different now, desperate.  
   
  “But?” asked Alan. There was a moment of silence.  
   
  “But he also remembers being Clu too,” admitted Sam. He sighed. “And he is there too, it’s easy to see in the way he looks at us. I guess he finds the turn of events ironic as well.”  
   
  They fell silent again. Alan saw Lora appearing at the door of the living room. She smiled but her face was worried.  
   
  “Alan?” asked Sam.  
   
  “This is wrong, Sam, so wrong,” he said finally.  
   
  “I know” said Sam slowly. “But this is all I have left.”  
   
  “And what’s next? Will he take over the company?”  
   
  “No, he insists that you and I should manage ENCOM. He wants to fix the Grid. Things are really messed up there now.”  
   
  Lora came there and sat down on the sofa, next to Alan. He took her hand that she offered.  
   
  “Will you come back?” asked Sam.  
   
  “I will,” replied Alan. He looked at his wife once he finished the phone call.  
   
  “Flynn is back,” he said. Lora’s face was unreadable. “Kevin Flynn is back.”  
   
  She cried out in surprise: after a moment of astonishment her arms flung around Alan’s neck – the gesture was comforting; and Alan was not sure which one of them needed it more. He returned the embrace anyway and prepared himself for the questions that would come, now and later on.  
   
IV.  
   
  A week passed. They were working: Sam was overwhelmed and angry at the paperwork and business meetings that took most of his time at ENCOM and Alan did his best to support him – at the same time he arrived in his office early in the morning and never got home before the darkness fell. The company employed a bright, young software engineer; Sam’s new friend. Alan was unsure about his own feelings about the idea of a program walking around in a human body, but if he accepted the way of Flynn’s comeback and believed his story, then he could take this as well.  
   
  Flynn’s return remained a secret: there had been considerable media attention around his person in the previous twenty years that had been refueled by random internet campaigns again and again. He was a hero of a certain community and one could expect serious interest once his return would be unveiled. Flynn was not ready for that; he explained that to Alan and Lora at the Arcade when Alan took her to see their old friend.  
   
  The Arcade was dark and silent – a fine place for hiding for now. It had been a hot spot for long and the target of pilgrimage after Flynn’s disappearance, but it had been closed down a few years later. Alan could see it having a renaissance after Flynn’s official return. The office downstairs was clean now and tidy and that neatness was uncharacteristic again; so not Flynn.  
   
  Lora cried out and walked ahead quickly; she threw herself in Flynn’s arms. Alan smiled even though he felt some sadness: yes, he thought, their relationship, their marriage was always about respect, safety and domestic happiness – and never about passion and ferocious desires. Those belonged to Kevin Flynn, he was the one who proved himself and inherited the kingdom as the prince in a tale, he was riding around the city on a motorbike, and he was the one who was able to drive people crazy. At least it had been the situation once; now Flynn embraced Lora and smiled politely. She sensed the difference and composed herself rapidly.  
   
  Flynn had them talking, to tell him about their lives as it had been during the last twenty years. It was mainly Lora speaking and there was not any easier thing than to give an account of their successful lives and accomplishments, their general happiness – and still, it somehow seemed to be superfluous and ostentatious as they were sitting in front of this simple man who listened to them with that serene expression on his face. Alan was not sure about his own feelings, if he was angry or just the contrary, very much shaken and emotional.  
   
  “I’m happy to hear all of that,” said Flynn when Lora finished. “I’m happy for you, guys. There are many things I need to tell you, but only one that is really important. Thank you, for looking out for Sam. And I’m sorry.”  
   
  That was how long Lora could take the scene; she jumped on her feet and ran out of the office. Alan rose as well, preparing to follow his wife.  
   
  “So you are still working on the system,” he said, trying to be casual. Flynn stood up too.  
   
  “That must be done before anything else. I owe them that,” he replied.  
   
  “Them? Programs?” asked Alan. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Flynn smiled; not that loud happiness that had been so typical of him, but silent, ironic as his entire new attitude.  
   
  “Programs,” he responded. “Workers. Artists. Soldiers. Tron.”  
   
  “My Tron program?” asked Alan, stunned. “Down there, as a separate entity, like you and me?”  
   
  He knew the answer already and it was more than he could process at that time. He turned and left the room without a word to join Lora outside on the street, to see the same dismay on her face that must have been on his own too – to share the fear that the world that they had known was not so certain anymore, that they had spent their lives with staring at dancing shadows on the wall of a cave and that now it was time to wake up.  
   
V.  
   
  Normal life resumed soon: the amount of work that needed to be done was overwhelming and soothing at the same time – it did not leave time for brooding and contemplating. Alan was under great pressure at the company; while implemented the changes they intended to do, he was in a tight corner because of the plummeting stocks. Sam was behind him, but that was not enough and Alan was about throwing up the sponge.  
   
  “Can you take one more week?” asked the younger Flynn after an especially devastating board meeting.  
   
  “What will change then?” asked Alan, still upset by the previous heated conversation. The room had gone empty by then, only the two of them stayed seated.  
   
  “He will step ahead in a week,” said Sam. Alan glanced at him.  
   
  “Is he ready?” he asked.  
   
  “He will be ready by then. He is rushing… we are rushing. I know how hard it is for you now.”  
   
  Alan put down the file that he was browsing; or he was rather hiding behind the paper. He looked at Sam and the regret hit him even more forcefully than usually: the recognition that the kid would have deserved a lot more than a bitter old man as a surrogate father.  
   
  “Come on,” the boy said. “Quorra is waiting for us in the dining hall.”  
   
  They took the elevator to the hall that was full at that hour. Quorra was sitting at one of the white plastic tables in her usual dark lens glasses and comfortable attire. She had her lunchbox in front of her, filled with raw fruits and vegetables and a bottle of water. Amongst the people at ENCOM, that were the brightest and strangest ones around she did not hang out: and nobody suspected that her manners and odd habits were essential for her. This world was way too different from the Grid, with wider spectrum of light, noises and sounds and other impacts that were unimaginable for a program. She wore her dark glasses to dim the light and comfortable clothes that did not irritate her newly developed nerves. The raw, vegan diet was also mandatory; everything else than the unprocessed food would have made her sick.  
   
  _How hard they try_ , thought Alan, _to survive, to be happy, to be the family they never had_. The idea made him feel even worse; did he do anything else than licking his wounds? He tried to get in Sam’s and Quorra’s conversation.  
   
  “I have to send out the material for press release” said Sam. “And I have to pick up Marv. I haven’t seen the guy since a week, this is embarrassing.”  
   
  “Did you leave him at a day care?” asked Alan surprisedly.  
   
  “No, he’s at dad’s place,” replied Sam. Seeing Alan’s face he added, “He’s renting a house up in the hills. It’s just temporary. I’ll give you the address, so you can stop by once the things are less hectic.”  
   
  “Hectic?” asked Alan. “Is he still busy with the coding?”  
   
  Sam began to check something on his cell phone. Quorra was chewing on a piece of melon awkwardly and offered her lunchbox to Alan.  
   
  “Some apples?” she asked. Alan gave her a smile. The kids had no experience in covering up things.  
   
VI.  
   
  The house was a two-storey mansion with black wrought-iron fence. It was an old building with modern features: the cameras that had been placed on the top of the gate followed Alan’s car as he was approaching. He braked, reached out from the car and pushed the caller button. He came uninvited – still, a minute later the gate began to open.  
   
  It was Saturday, early in the morning. The sky was cloudy, the air damp and chilly. Tall trees were standing on the two sides of the narrow path that led to the house. Alan left the car on the driveway and walked to the entrance; there was a spacey patio with a rocking chair. The large wooden door was unlocked and he walked in. It was dark and warm inside. Alan crossed a smaller fore room and the living room that followed. Flynn was standing there, leant to the doorframe, with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. _So young_ , thought Alan, _so different_.  
   
  “I hope…” he started, then fell silent. Flynn looked at him, amused.  
   
  “No, you don’t disturb,” he said. “I thought you would come earlier. You want a coffee?”  
   
  They sat down in the kitchen. That room was well lit and full of modern appliances. Alan got a cup with fresh coffee with cream – he felt startled when he realized that Flynn remembered how he drank his coffee.  
   
  “How is it going?” asked Alan.  
   
  “It’s okay.”  
   
  “Sam?”  
   
  “He was here yesterday. He’s tired but enthusiastic.”  
   
  “He wants your approval.”  
   
  “I know. And he has it. And it will be different very soon.”  
   
  “After you step ahead?” asked Alan.  
   
  “Yes, and after I finish the work in the Arcade. Not that it is more important than him, because it is not. But they, down there, took enough shit already. If a few days delay here can change their situation, well, that’s the least I can do.”  
   
  “The coding?”  
   
  “Almost done. Then you will be able to see it with your own eyes,” said Flynn with a mocking smile.  
   
  “You…” started Alan. There was a digital tone, a cell phone ring. “Go ahead, pick it up.”  
   
  “Thanks,” said Flynn and he stood up. He walked out of the kitchen and Alan heard the pieces of the conversation. He took a sip of his coffee and put down the cup. He rose and walked to the window, watched the fallen leaves. It was still cloudy, but it was clearing up and it was getting lighter and sunnier. Alan turned. The house was dark, the air dry and warm. He walked to the refrigerator casually, opened the door and peeked inside. Flynn seemingly lived alone in the big house – yet, next to the milk, some eggs and beer there was a remarkable load of fresh vegetable and fruit. The cabinet next to the refrigerator was filled with bottles of mineral water. Alan stalked to the living room slowly. Flynn’s voice came from the patio, he was still talking on the phone.  
   
  Alan looked around. Everything was dark and silent. Then he heard the noise and looked up.  
   
  “Marv,” he said. The dog was wagging his tail on the top of the staircase. Alan went upstairs. Marv was cheerful, but somewhat confused and when Alan leant ahead to pet him, the dog scampered into one of the rooms. Alan unbent and followed Marv: it was not exactly polite to walk around the house, but Flynn was still busy, the door of the room was open – and he knew it anyway what he was going to find, he knew it before the got the door. And there he saw it, a large aquarium next to the wall, with large, exotic, colorful fish, lit up with blue leds – and a single figure kneeling on the carpet, in front of the glass and staring at it. Marv came back to Alan, even more confused than earlier. Alan could not tear his eyes away from that other man, who slowly turned his head away and looked at him, allowing Alan to recognize him, to recognize his own young self. That one on the carpet held himself in a different posture, wore his hair in another fashion, and still it was him, especially the knowing smile which appeared on his face now. Suddenly the frightening and impossible idea occurred to Alan that that dim blue glaze on the other man’s face was not coming from the aquarium, that that turquoise flash in his eyes was not the reflection of the leds.  
   
  Alan staggered and backed up out of the room to the galleria; then he turned and grabbed the handrail. He had dealt with Flynn’s return, with Quorra’s appearance and all the new ideas that he had had to accept, but it happened now, right now that his conception of the world and the universe shattered. It took a few seconds for him to come to his senses and blink for a couple of times. Just then he saw that Flynn was standing in the living room on the first floor and was looking up at him intently.

 

 

 

  
  
 

 

VII.  
   
  They were back in the kitchen, he and Flynn. His cup was gone, instead of that Alan was given a can of beer and he accepted that gladly. Flynn did not seem to be angry or even irritated.  
   
  “Why?” asked Alan once he was able to talk.  
   
  “Why is he here?” asked Flynn and Alan nodded. “Because the system was in ruins after the reintegration. If someone, I am responsible for that and I am fixing it, the only problem is that time passes slower on the Grid. I couldn’t save all of them from the long wait, but I could spare him from that at least.”  
   
  “But… What you have told in the Arcade for the first time… Are you sure that he is not dangerous to the people?”  
   
  “What do you think?” asked Flynn. He threw his head back and laughed. That gesture belonged to the real Kevin Flynn. But did that mean that this person was false otherwise, an imitation?  
   
  “Why does he look like the way I used to be?” went on Alan.  
   
  “You wrote him for the first system. Programs used to look like their Users, back in those days.”  
   
  “And you simply took my program, without asking me.”  
   
  “Believe me, that’s a mistake that I did regret during the years.”  
   
  Alan glared at him; Flynn took a sip of the beer.  
   
  “What is he for you?” asked Alan. “A tool?”  
   
  “How do you mean that?” asked back Flynn and there was some tension building up between them now.  
   
  “What Clu did in the system…”  
   
  Flynn put down his can on the table. His expression was cold, almost fearsome.  
   
  “It was me, Alan. I did those things to the system. And I’m pretty much aware of the things that I have done to Tron. I’m working on it, to fix it and you have been helping me in that. I appreciate that and your questions are fine. But don’t insinuate, just ask what you want to know.”  
   
  Alan blinked.  
   
  “Are you sneaking around my program that wears my face?” he asked. Flynn smiled at him.  
   
  “Sneaking is such an ugly word, Mr. Bradley,” he replied. Alan was surprised by the sadness which flooded him upon those words; for standing on the side again, for having such part in something so destructive, so obscure – so powerful, and still not being there. He felt Flynn’s hand on his shoulder suddenly as the other man leaned ahead and gave him that encouraging touch.  
   
  “You did so well. You have accomplished so much,” said Alan.  
   
  “Yes. Just so I could destroy everything I have created, to hurt everybody that was important for me. I craved for logic and perfection, at least I thought so, but all I managed to create was chaos and suffering. I had Tron, with all your logic and uprightness and I requited him for that loyalty with the greatest cruelty possible. The memory of that and all the others is not something one would want to live with and I wasn’t sure if I could do it, even for Sam’s sake. Not until I found Tron in the system, not until I learnt that he forgave me, that he was not actually capable of bearing a grudge, not at me.”  
   
  Alan looked at him, shocked by the words but enthralled at the same time.

  “Did I do well? I have mistaken love for obsession, kindness for flattering, capability for power. I’ve never done well, not even average – if I managed not to mess up everything that was because of the people around me. You, Lora, my parents, my wife. Sam. Tron. Quorra. If I want whoever is still alive, to be back in my life, that it is not gentleness on my side, but my own need, my longing for them. I did bring Tron out of the system and I did want to spare him from the long wait and from fighting for survival there; yet the true reason is something else. And I think you know by now what that reason is. And I also think that I replied to your question.”  
   
  Alan nodded, weakly. _Even now_ , he thought, _even admitting those crimes and mistakes he is so compelling, so overwhelming – the world would have missed this real badly._ He had missed this so badly.   
   
  With the hardest part done, they stayed there for a while with their drinks, recalling stories from the past and talking about the future.  
   
VIII.  
   
  On the day of the press conference Alan and Sam went together to pick up Flynn; there was another black SUV with security personnel following their car as they approached the house. The vehicles stopped in front of the dark building: it was sunset and the surrounding forest had gone shaded already. They got out of the car. Sam seemed to be exhausted, yet happy: the hiding and the fight with the board was about to end that night. Alan walked to the door and entered the house. All was dark and silent. Marv ran to greet him; he was not distracted anymore. Alan picked up the dog and turned to Flynn who put the house keys on the living room table. His belongings had been packed up and shipped earlier that day.  
   
  “Ready?” asked Alan.  
   
  “Yes,” replied Flynn. He wore a dark jacket and pants. Alan looked at the staircase.  
   
  “He’s gone,” answered Flynn his unvoiced question. For some odd reason Alan felt loss. “You’ll see each other on the Grid.”  
   
  “Yes,” said Alan. There was one last still moment as they were standing in the dark living room. The waiting had ended. Alan felt lightheaded.  
   
  “Come on,” yelled Sam outside, his voice was teasing and impatient. “Let’s go.”  
   
  Alan saw Flynn smiling in the dark.  
   
  “Let’s go,” repeated Alan.  
   
  They walked out to the people waiting for them; the heavy door closed behind them for the last time.


End file.
